What the Room Required
by JenCala28
Summary: 8th Year story. "Wh-What are we doing?" Harry panted, his hands still buried in Draco's platinum locks. He felt the shudder that ran through Draco's body as his hands teased the hair at the nape of his neck. Draco shook his head slightly, turning to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat. "I have no fucking clue."


Harry rushed up stairs and down halls blindly, his anxiety spiking. He knew he shouldn't have come back, he knew it was too soon. He should have _known_ it wasn't the same sanctuary (albeit a dangerous one) he grew up in with Ron and Hermione anymore.

His mind racing with all the reasons why he shouldn't have returned to Hogwarts, he didn't even realise that he was instinctively heading to the seventh floor until he stood in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry hesitated before trying to access the room. He knew the repairs to the castle after the final battle had been extensive and were completed, but did that apply to the Room of Requirement? Most people didn't even know it existed, and he thought it had been utterly destroyed thanks to the fiendfyre Crabbe ignited.

"Well there's only one way to find out," Harry muttered to himself before slowly pacing in front of the wall three times.

When a door appeared in the stone in front of him, Harry just stood there, a bit afraid of what he would find inside. He heard voices down the hall and decided to take his chances with whatever was waiting for him inside the room rather than face any of the other students or staff.

Harry quickly opened the door and stepped inside, almost slamming the door shut behind him in his haste to avoid anyone else. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the room had indeed repaired itself and, as usual, had provided exactly what he needed.

Instead of the burned out disaster Harry had expected to find, the room had transformed into a cozy sitting room, a roaring fire in the large hearth at one end with a long sofa before it. A comfortable looking armchair sat to the right of the sofa, and Harry sank down in the soft cushions with a sigh, content to be alone for a while.

"Fancy meeting you here, Potter."

Harry jumped, wand in his hand and a curse ready on his lips as he turned to face the unexpected voice coming from the sofa next to him.

"Malfoy!" Harry relaxed his grip on his wand somewhat, but didn't lower it as he stared at the pale blond man reclining along the length of the sofa. "What are you doing here?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and indicated the crystal tumbler in one of his hands. "Having a drink at the moment."

Harry lowered his wand slowly, rolling his shoulders to try and ease the tension Malfoy's presence had exasperated. Of all the people to run into in what should have been an empty room, it had to be Malfoy.

"Care for a drink?" Malfoy asked.

Harry was a bit flustered as Malfoy sat up and held out a bottle of Firewhiskey in offering. "Sure?" he answered.

Draco smirked and poured some of the amber liquid into another crystal tumbler. "That sounded more like a question, but since the Room obviously wants you to have a drink, I'll give you one anyways." He held the glass out to Harry.

Harry warily nodded his thanks as he took the tumbler in hand and sipped, letting the heat of the Ogden's Finest burn down his throat. "What do you mean the room wants me to drink?"

Draco held up the bottle. "I came in with the bottle wanting some solitude and the room provided me with a glass. Just one tumbler though. After you came in, another glass appeared. I'm assuming it was meant for you, unless of course you were waiting for someone else to join us?"

Harry shook his head and sat back down, taking another sip of the fiery liquor. "Merlin, no. It's bad enough you're in here." He flinched as he realised what he'd just said. "Shite, I didn't mean it that way, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed the rest of his firewhiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass down before standing to move directly in front of Harry. "Really, Potter? What other possible way could you have meant that?" he spat.

Harry shook his head, setting his tumbler of Firewhiskey on the coffee table. "Stop it, Malfoy. I only meant I had come in here to be alone. It wasn't any kind of slight against you." He stood up and turned towards the door. "I'll just leave you to it then."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Some things never change." He watched Harry walk towards the door and called out, "What are you hiding from, Potter? Your adoring fans? The multitudes who want to bask in the presence of the glorious Boy-Who-Won't-Die?"

Harry tried to temper his rising anger, but turned to face Draco again. "You haven't the first bloody fucking clue what it's like to be me right now, Malfoy." Harry shook his head in frustration. "Who would have saved your sorry arse in this very fucking room a few months ago if I had died? I wonder, would anyone else have testified for you at your trial this summer if I would have died?"

"I didn't bloody well ask you to testify for me, now did I?" Draco spat. "Am I supposed to be forever grateful to you now? Do I owe you some bloody life debt now? You saved the poor, little Death Eater from Azkaban and I'm supposed to get on my knees and grovel?"

Harry didn't back away as Draco moved closer to him, standing his ground as the blond practically shook, his rage threatening to spill over. "I didn't do it because I'm a fucking hero, Malfoy!" he yelled back. "We were fucking kids! We fought a bloody war as kids, and I know neither of us had any sodding choice. We were both forced into our roles, and I heard you, Malfoy. I saw you that night Dumbledore died. I _saw_ you lower your wand, I know you didn't want to kill him, you prat!"

"You don't know anything about me, Potter. Go back to the legions who adore you and your hero complex." Draco growled, his face inches from Harry's.

Harry snorted. "You don't know anything about me either, Malfoy. You don't know what it's like to choose your own death _willingly_ , after more people than you ever wanted to already did so to protect you. Tell me what it's like to have all that weight on your shoulders! Tell me what it's like to _have to_ face death because Voldemort is inside your head!"

"I don't know what it's like to be sure I'm going to die?" Draco roared, the sound causing Harry to flinch. "The Dark Lord lived in my _home_ for two years! Every second of my existence was lived in fear that the very next moment I would be tortured or killed! Do you know what it's like to be on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse for speaking out of turn? Or for not speaking at all? If it wasn't myself I was afraid for, it was my parents."

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I know you're not just the bully you pretend to be." Draco's brittle laugh made Harry pause for a moment, but he pressed on. "None of that matters anymore though. It's over. Voldemort is dead and so are a lot of good people who shouldn't be. We won. Don't pretend you wanted a different outcome because you would have turned us all in at the Manor if that was the case."

Draco's sneer returned. "No, I didn't want that psychotic bastard to win. I'm not stupid, Potter. I may not like Muggles and Muggleborns, but that doesn't mean I wanted to be tied to a madman. You're right. I never had a choice." He pulled back his left sleeve to display the faded Dark Mark on his forearm he always tried to keep hidden. "This mark doesn't let me forget what I did, though. It makes sure _everyone_ knows I was a dirty Death Eater. I get treated like shite everywhere I go because it doesn't matter to anyone else that I had no choice. I'm just a Death Eater that got lucky to not be killed or thrown in Azkaban because the Great Harry Potter, Savior of the Whole Bloody World took pity on me!"

"I helped you, you wanker!" Harry bellowed. "I saved your sorry arse _twice_ the night of the final battle, or did you forget that?. Why does it matter _why_ I helped you, you spoiled prat? Yes, I fucking helped you. I'm sorry you get treated like shite, but that's not my fault."

Draco closed his eyes and took a ragged breath before speaking, his voice tight, eyes trained on Harry's. "No, it's not your fault. It's mine. I get called obscenities, knocked around, and ignored even by people I once called friend because of who I had to be to survive. You . . . you get immortalized on a bloody chocolate frog card and put on a bloody pedestal for what _you_ had to do to survive. Isn't life grand?"

"What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy? It's my fault for almost being killed who knows how many times at this point by some madman who felt threatened? It's MY fault your parents raised you to be a Death Eater?" Harry scoffed.

"Poor Harry Potter, he has to hear accolades and put up with constant fawning while others have the shite kicked out of them by their dorm mates!"

Draco froze, eyes wide, as he realised what he'd said.

Harry reached out towards Draco as the blond backed away quickly, looking for an escape. "Malfoy, don't…"

Draco turned to leave only to stop again. "Where's the bloody door?"

"What do you mean, where's the door?" Harry turned, eyes searching the wall where the door he had come in through had been . . . but now wasn't.

Draco ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "How the hell do we get out of here if there's no door?" He whirled to face Harry again. "Did you do this?" he accused, glaring at the other man.

"Of course not!"

"Then why the bloody hell does the room not want us to leave?" Draco asked, once again stepping into Harry's personal space. "If neither of us made the door disappear then this stupid, sentient room did it for some reason!"

Harry barely had time to dodge the fist that Draco sent flying towards his face. He ducked just in time and pushed Malfoy away from him. "What the bloody hell are you—?" Draco's fist slammed into his jaw on his second attempt, knocking Harry's head back.

Momentarily stunned from the blow, he stood there glaring at Draco in disbelief before launching himself at Draco with a roar of outrage.

"You fucking prick!"

Harry landed a punch straight to Draco's stomach making him double over in pain. He barely had time to gloat before Draco straightened and socked him in the face with a well-aimed left hook.

They were vicious in their attacks, fists flying fast and furious with more enthusiasm than accuracy. The small room was filled with the sound of their angry groans as they wrestled, years of mutual torment and frustration finally coming to a head.

"Stop it , Malfoy!" Harry slammed Draco back against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of both of them. Both men stilled, chests heaving in exertion from their fight, arms still locked on each other's shoulders.

Later, Harry couldn't recall how it happened or who moved first.

He remembered the feral gleam in Draco's silver eyes, locked on his own; the way Draco's pink tongue darted out to wet his surprisingly full lips. The brief "Oh" that flickered in his mind. But he couldn't recall who moved first as his lips crashed against Draco's.

There was no gentleness or timidity to their first kiss. The moment their lips met, there was no hesitation on either side; it was a duel for dominance and neither was backing down.

Draco threaded the fingers of one hand through Harry's dark hair, holding him in place as he slanted his lips, tongue sliding against tongue, teeth clacking in their need to be closer, to devour the other. He fisted his other hand in Harry's shirt yanking him closer until their bodies were flush.

Instead of the shock he thought he should have been feeling, Harry couldn't help the sense of inevitability, of how right it felt to have Draco's mouth on his, his body firm against his own. He couldn't fathom how seven years of teasing, torment, and rivalry had led them to this moment, but he didn't give a rat's arse about it as long as the blond kept grinding his pelvis against him just so.

He couldn't keep his hands still. Desperate to feel bare flesh, he yanked the shirt from Draco's trousers and ran his hands underneath, skimming the taut flesh of the blond's stomach with one hand while tracing the knobs and ridges of his spine with the other.

Draco tore his mouth away only to run it across his stubbled jaw, licking and sucking a trail down to nip at an exposed tendon as Harry threw his head back with a moan. Draco growled against Harry's clavicle when he bucked his hips, their hardening cocks rubbing together through their trousers.

Harry sank his hands into Draco's silky hair, pulling the blond up to meet his mouth for another hungry kiss. When breathing became an issue, they both reluctantly pulled back, foreheads resting against each other.

"Wh-What are we doing?" Harry panted, his hands still buried in Draco's platinum locks. He felt the shudder that ran through Draco's body as his hands teased the hair at the nape of his neck.

Draco shook his head slightly, turning to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat. "I have no fucking clue," he rasped against Harry's Adam's apple before teasing it with a firm bite.

Harry took a ragged breath before asking, "D-Do you want to stop?"

Draco paused his languid exploration of his jugular to rock his erection against Harry's. "Fuck no."

Harry fought for control, the lust-induced haze drowning out the part of his brain screaming at him that this was _Malfoy_ making him feel desire unlike any he'd ever known. When Draco pressed their mouths together again with a breathy sigh of his name against his lips—"Harry . . ."—his tenuous hold snapped.

He pushed Draco back towards the sofa until the backs of his knees hit the edge and they tumbled down, mouths still fused together.

They tore at each other's clothing with urgency, their mouths only separating to lift their shirts over their heads, both tossing the offending garments to the side carelessly. Fingers flew on the other's belt buckles, helping each other unbutton and unzip, sliding trousers and pants down their legs quickly before coming together again in a hungry kiss.

No barriers separated them as Draco bucked his hips into Harry's, both hissing as their hard, naked pricks rubbed against each other.

Draco surprised Harry with his strength and flipped them so he was laying flat on his back on the sofa. A brief smirk gracing Draco's sharp features as he reached down and removed Harry's glasses, placing them on the table beside them before claiming his lips again in a rough kiss.

Harry reached between them and wrapped his hand around Draco's long prick, his thumb rubbing along the weeping head, spreading the pre-cum along the shaft. Draco groaned, burying his head in Harry's neck as he reciprocated, grasping Harry's thick cock and picking up the rhythm already set.

The guttural sounds both men made as they thrust wantonly into each other's fists echoed against the stone walls, intensifying their pleasure. Draco could feel the tension coiling deliciously in his stomach and forced his eyes open to gauge if his new lover was close as well. He was surprised to see Harry's normally bright green eyes staring straight into his, the pupils blown wide with desire.

Their lips met in a fervent, desperate kiss, their hands flying over each other's cocks, desperate for release. Harry threw his head back, growling Draco's name, his vision going white at the edges from the force of his orgasm, his hips stuttering as thick, milky cum spilled over the blond's hand.

Hearing his name laced with such passion coming from his former enemy's lips was all it took to send Draco spiraling over the edge, shuddering and cursing as he came all over Harry's hand and stomach. He collapsed against Harry's chest, utterly spent, trying to catch his breath and listening to the heartbeat thrumming under his cheek.

Slowly their breathing evened out and both men realised the position they were in; naked, lying across each other, sweaty from their exertions, a sticky warmth rapidly cooling across their abdomens evidence of what had just transpired between them.

Draco pushed himself up, not daring to look Harry in the eye, and reached for his wand on the table. He cast a quick Scourgify on himself and started to grab his clothes. He didn't look to be sure, but he could hear the other man doing the same, neither risking being the first to speak.

Harry quietly finished dressing, pulling his shoes on and chanced a look at Draco. His pale skin was flushed, his lips swollen, and though he did his best to straighten his clothes, he still looked rumpled and thoroughly debauched. Harry wanted nothing more than to drag that lean body back to his and devour that sinful mouth once again. He curled his fingers into his hands to stop himself from reaching out.

Draco stopped fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt and tried to think of what to say after what had transpired between them, turning to finally look at Harry when he saw a door on the wall behind the other man.

"The door's back." Draco spoke softly, indicating with his chin.

Harry turned and saw that the once vanished door was back in it's rightful place. "Oh. Um, I guess that means we can leave now."

Draco nodded dumbly and started walking towards the exit he had been desperate for not even thirty minutes prior, mumbling, "Potter," as he walked by.

Harry reached out reflexively and grabbed his arm. "Wait."

Draco stopped and turned to face him. They stood there for a few moments just staring at each other, Harry's hand still gripping Draco's arm, neither sure of what to say. Draco couldn't stand the tension any longer and gave in to his desire, pulling Harry to him for a quick, but thorough snog.

He broke away after a few moments, mumbling, "Bye, Potter," and hastily left the room.

Harry stood there, staring as Malfoy shut the door behind him, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Fuck."


End file.
